The Silver Lining Stories
by The Quill Danced
Summary: South of Narnia lies an entire kingdom, Archenland. These are glimpses into the lives of the young Archenlandish nobles and their difficulties in love and life, always finding the silver lining. A collection of one-shots. Aravis/Cor, Corin/OC
1. Wonderfully Made

The North was a strange place, untamed, and best of all, free. Everything from the glacial streams weaving through cascading mountains with ice-capped peaks to the unending evergreen forests of truly living trees made Aravis' heart beat quickly, just like the first day she had seen them. Indeed, there was very little resemblance between Calormen and Archenland and, quite often, twenty year old Aravis still felt like the fourteen year old girl who raced across the Great Desert on the back of a talking horse in the company of another horse and a boy.

She felt this way now as she rode with her ladies through the luscious green foothills of eastern Archenland. The afternoon was a bright one, filled with birdsong and the sound of the oceans waves crashing beyond the trees. What should have been a gay time filled with laughter and secret confidences between young women was instead weighted down by a sad, and sobering, silence.

Earlier that morning the three ladies had been on an escapade from Anvard to the nearby village of Bray that was hosting a spring fair. Dressed in plain cotton dresses, with their hair flying loose in the wind, they looked hardly noble and rather carefree. This was until they heard the sound of bramble being trotted on underfoot and the loud voices coming towards them. Emerging from the wood were two men, the youngest being no older than eighteen and the elder about twenty-three. Aravis, whose horse was slightly ahead, walked off the path to let the men pass. Dressed in cotton shirts and breeches, but with a cocky air, Aravis took them to be merely merchant's sons, and rough ones at that. Instead of passing by they stopped and carefully appraised Aravis whose face was emotionless, and not a little haughty, though she'd never have admitted it.

The elder man looked at Aravis through narrow eyes and his lips curled into a distasteful smirk.

"All hail Rabadash the Ridiculous, Tisroc of Calormen!" he laughed nastily, never taking his eyes of Aravis. She drew the reigns tighter, preparing herself to bolt if necessary.

This was not the first occurrence of discourtesy due to her Calormene birth and, generally, it was from ignorant peasants that knew no more than the prejudices that they inherited. Yet, a faint sweat broke out on her forehead and she could admit a bit of nervousness at the situation, for she was usually in the company of Cor and Corin and no one would dare disrespect her or harm her in their presence.

"Three cheers for his donkeyness," sneered the younger brown-haired boy to whom Aravis the coldest glare that her face could produce. He returned her look with a smirk to match his brother's.

"Should you not say, 'May we he live forever'?"

Aravis set her mouth in a firm line, shooting imaginary daggers into both of their hearts. "And why should I do that? He is not the Tisroc here."

The man who spoke first chimed in, "But you aren't from here, either. You're from _there_."

It was no secret where _there _was or what he thought of _there_ and its people. Aravis wished that they had not decided to do such a foolish thing as traveling as peasants without accompaniment. Had she been dressed as a member of court, as she usually was, they would have known her at first glance.

Granted, they may still have the same sentiments, but at least she would not have had to endure their abuse.

"In the name of _Aslan_," she said strongly and purposefully, "I demand that you leave and let us be on our way unhindered."

Something unpleasant crept into the older man's eyes as he spoke, "Not yet, _darkie_."

There was _that_ word, a slur against Calormenes in Archenland and Narnia. Obviously, Aravis had never been called that directly to her face, but she was familiar with the term. Without thinking, she pressed her hand against the brown skin of her cheek, feeling the heat as her face burned with anger and, to her annoyance, embarrassment.

"You forget yourself in the presence of Aravis Tarkheena!" cried Daphne, one of her ladies, as she immediately advanced to Aravis' left side.

"This is King Lune's little Calormene princess?" he said quietly. The two men's faces blanched and they began glancing into the trees looking for any castle guards who might be hiding among them. Carefully they began retreating into the bush.

"The very same," the other lady, Mariah, said to the retreating figures, "and one of the dear saviours of _your_ country of Archenland.

In a few moments they were gone and an unnatural silence settled around the three. Daphne and Mariah looked anxiously at Aravis, whose face was blank.

"Aravis, are you alright?" Aravis turned her face towards her and something in her eyes seemed to break.

"No, I am not alright. I am exhausted of this. True, this may be the first time such behaviour was directed at me personally, but I have always known it existed. I do not hold a grudge, I truly do not. The Northerners I have met have been far kinder than anyone in Calormen and were accepting of me when I arrived with Prince Cor. Nevertheless, I do not fit in here."

"Of course you do!" Mariah cried, "All the nobles adore you. Those rogues did say one true thing; you _are_ King Lune's Calormene Princess. He adores you as if you were his own daughter."

"A Calormene princess, though. I am not called an Archenland princess. Every time a poet comes to court we are regaled with the sweetest tales of fair-haired maidens with rosy alabaster cheeks. I do not fit in Archenland, despite how long I have lived here or with whom I live. It is not as if I can change the colour of my skin." Aravis sighed, all vigour gone from her. She dismounted her horse and sat down against a tree, staring the beautiful sunny sky and light clouds that promised fair weather, whose brilliance and previous promise of happiness now seemed to mock her.

"Oh! But you can!" Daphne said excitedly.

"I can what?"

"You can change the colour of your skin, if you so wish. I have heard ladies at court speak of a woman, a recluse who lives in the foothills yonder," she pointed east to some nearby hills, "I have heard that she has a balm which one rubs on to lighten the skin. Ladies go to her on the off chance they might have caught too much sun."

"Daphne…" started Mariah warily, "are you sure about this? I have heard tale that she is a witch and that she performs dark magic."

"All I have heard from have called her a most remarkable healer," Daphne replied indignantly.

Aravis was silent, but thoughtful, whilst the ladies argued. It was a definite risk, to approach such a woman for a task. However, in her current state, it seemed promising. Aravis would never admit it to anyone, but she had a distinct apprehension that _certain_ noble men, with a clear dislike of Calormen, might not be attracted to someone who looked like her. She was not an ignorant person, and felt that she knew herself quite well. Fully aware that her feelings towards Cor were different, perhaps less friendly and more…well, it was like the poets said, 'fair princes love fair ladies'. Yet, she had too much pride to even let herself admit to anyone that Cor was truly one of her reasons. There was a small niggling feeling in her mind that she could be making a mistake, yet it seemed a worthwhile venture.

* * *

Aravis was the first to notice that the sound of birdsong had disappeared. There was an eerie feeling of seclusion in the forest; even the ocean seemed more distant. Awful green darkness settled around them as they approached a hole dug into hillside, which they assumed was the healer's home. A little creek ran outside the entrance and a hunched figure knelt there picking brown, dry plants and rinsing them in the water. At the sound of horses she raised her head slowly, appraising the coming travelers curiously. They dismounted quickly, and at once were hit with a strong pungent scent wafting from inside the hill. Aravis hid her discomfort beneath a well-timed cough. Daphne and Mariah attempted to cover their noses inconspicuously, which turned out to be more than conspicuous instead.

"By the Mane, is that the smell of dead rat?" whispered Mariah under her breath. Aravis shot her a pointed glance.

"Shhh," Daphne hissed before stepping forward. "Hello, Madame...err…ma'am. We are from the court at Anvard, and well…"

"You do not look like court ladies…" the old woman said unexpectedly as she rose, putting her plants into a basket.

"Well, no…you see we're…" Daphne stuttered. It was clear that she was made quite nervous by the situation despite her previous confidence. Aravis, whose nerves could really take no more of this idle chitchat, stepped forward.

"Ma'am, I am Aravis Tarkheena, ward of King Lune of Archenland. It has come to my attention that you are able to make a balm which lightens ones skin. I am quite interested in such a good and am prepared to pay generously for it."

The woman face remained unreadable and she turned and disappeared into the shadowy entrance without a word.

"I have a dreadful feeling about all this," Daphne whispered sorrowfully.

"You have a terrible feeling? We are at the home of a woman who is most certainly some sort of unpleasant character all thanks to your brilliant design, so if you feel that-"

"Hush!" Aravis' voice broke into the middle of their argument. "We are here because of me. It is not Daphne's fault. I take full responsibility for anything that transpires from our visit today."

"I will remember you said that," mumbled Mariah as the woman came out once again. She stood on the other side of the creek and bade Aravis forward. Closer now, Aravis could see the face under the hood of the woman's cloak. Her face was etched with lines of age so deep that it was a wonder that the woman could ever have been young. Stranger still, the woman had one eye that was blue and one eye green. Taken aback at the queerness of the woman's appearance Aravis did not notice her holding a small canister in her left hand and holding up four fingers with the right.

"I am to pay you four lions?" Aravis asked. The woman nodded slowly, and extended her hand. Though not a great sum, Aravis still felt a sense of loss as she rifled through her purse for the money. Dropping the coins into the woman's hand, Aravis took the canister and the woman spun on her heel and scurried, which can be the only word used to describe the manner in which the woman left the three ladies, into the hole. Aravis breathed out a sigh of relief and walked quickly to where Daphne and Mariah waited with the horses.

"Well that was not too difficult," Aravis said triumphantly as she swung a leg over her mare and pulled her round. Daphne and Mariah followed and all were glad to be able to see the warm green glow of sunlight through leaves ahead.

"You would think a woman who could make such things would use them on herself…" wondered Daphne.

"I still believe that woman is a witch or some other horrid creature. Did you see how she never crossed the water? Not even her arm passed over the creek. All learned people know that is the distinct sign of a witch," Mariah said vehemently.

"Nonsense," replied Aravis, "her hand was in the water before. What do you make of that then?" She was too hopeful and wished not to have any doubts start forming in her heart.

"I am not skilled in the art of witchcraft; sorry I do not know all the rules of their kind."

As they argued agreeably, if there can be such a thing, on the way back to Anvard, Aravis forced any doubt and discontentment away. If the balm would be able to at least lighten her skin a tad, so as to make her different appearance a bit less noticeable, then all and all the journey was successful.

* * *

Oh, if Aravis had ever thought that she had felt despair in her short life she had been quite mistaken! This indeed, and nothing else, could truly be called the utter depths of despair. Regret was a feeling that was rather foreign to her psyche. As Calormene nobility there had never been reason to regret a thing, for everything she did was her right. Even running away from Calormen, there had never been a moment when she had wished that she had not done so. Now though, this was regret of the deepest kind.

Her hair was haphazardly wrapped in a towel; it had been like that for hours. She felt paralyzed. How miserable the world was.

"Aravis!" Mariah yelled through her door. "Are you alright? Let us in, please!"

Hesitantly, she walked out of her room into the outer chamber where she welcomes visitors. With one had on the handle she froze. No, she could not possibly…

"Please! We would like to see how the-"

Daphne had no chance to finish her sentence, for Aravis whipped open the door and dragged her friends in. Quickly she locked it back before turning to them. Only the three of them knew what had happened yesterday and it was to stay that way. She could not risk anyone overhearing.

"By the Mane! Oh Aravis…" Mariah gingerly reached for Aravis who drew away and went to sit on a chaise. Daphne hid a gasp behind her hand and the two women sat down opposite to her.

Their shock was indeed warranted. Aravis' face, her once beautiful brown complexion, was now marred by awful red sores. The large blotches were scattered around and the skin looked raw and painful and Aravis looked miserable beneath them.

"Oh dearest…" Mariah moaned. "Does it hurt?"

Aravis' nodded, "A bit. But the pain that I am feeling is deeper. Oh, how I wish I had never left home yesterday. Why am I so foolish! I doubt this can even be healed…"

To her credit, Aravis did not cry before them. Beneath her despair was some of the same kind of strength that she had gathered all those years ago when Cor had been taken by the Narnian and she was left alone with Bree and Hwin to guide. Ever the Tarkheena she was nothing if not resilient. Of course, even she had a limit.

"What happened?" asked Daphne who had finally found her voice. Aravis could see the genuine sympathy in their eyes and it helped to ease the misery.

"Before I retired last night, I did my toilette and then applied the balm. There was a slight burning sensation that was queer, but not painful or irritating. When I woke this morning and looked in my looking glass …" she gestured to her ruined face.

"What are we going to do?" Mariah whispered. Aravis folded her hands in her lap, resigned.

"We shall not be doing anything. Do not think I have not sat here this morning going through every possible solution. I cannot think of a plausible one yet, so for now you will tell no one and I feel stay here until my face either heals or I think of something to do."

"You cannot possibly stay in your room indefinitely. People will talk. There may rumors about you being with child…" Daphne trailed off.

"That is absurd! I would hope that people would have more faith in my character."

"They do, they do. Really, Aravis," Mariah reassured her, "It's just that it is not a very practical solution."

"And there is talk of you and Prince Cor…" Daphne added.

"And that would be all talk, Daphne." Aravis shot them both a look that rendered that conversation finished.

* * *

In the late afternoon Aravis sat cross-legged on her bed with the curtain drawn. With the help of her looking glass she tied a silk scarf around her face in the Calormen style where only her eyes could be seen. Seeing herself thus gave her a strange bittersweet feeling. While it was nice and comfortable to be in Calormene attire once again, if she had thought that she did not fit in Archenland before, she certainly did not now.

"Aravis…"

The unexpected voice made her heart feel as if it were falling from a mountain peak. She hoped, wished and prayed that she had not heard who she thought she had…

"Aravis, it's me, Cor. Please, let me in."

She stepped out from behind the curtains and into the outer chamber once again. Leaning her head against the door she let out a ragged sigh.

"Cor, oh Cor, I cannot…"

"Aravis, are you alright? Everyone is worried. I _am_ worried. You have never missed a formal dinner unless you are very ill and even then you let me in when I come to see you."

"Yes, that is true. But this is…a different sort of situation."

"Then let me in and explain it to me."

"Cor, I cannot! Would you please just leave me be?"

She heard Cor groan in frustration and hit the wall beside her door. He hissed something under his breath and Aravis felt badly that he had hurt himself because of her, but only a little.

"This is not like you. Since when can you not speak to me? By the Mane, Aravis!"

"If you are frustrated with me and tired of our association than I suggest you leave before I ruin your evening any more, Your Highness."

Cor's footfalls echoed down the corridor and Aravis slid down the door and leaned against it. Her strength was spent and she did not know how much more she could handle, especially when she was no closer yet to a resolution. Going back to that old woman in the hill was firmly out of the question. She held little trust to that woman's abilities, or her intentions towards her. To explain to a court physician would be more humiliating than she could withstand. At this point, she was at a complete loss.

* * *

Cor turned over onto his back once again. He was passing a rather restless night. It was not often that Aravis felt that she could not speak to him, and the only thing that had ever been this serious was when her brother had died in a battle. Try as he may he could not banish the worry from his mind. He laid his arm across his eyes and wished desperately for some peace.

A soft wind began to blow through his chamber, gently rustling the curtains hanging on his bed. The air grew warm and it was filled with a scent he could not place. Swiftly, he sat up and, to his surprise, before him stood the Great Lion himself, filling the chamber with splendour so bright it eclipsed all finery in the room. In a moment he had the covers thrown back and was standing before the Lion, his harms around him and thankful that he was there.

"You are troubled, Son of Adam?" Aslan's voice was deep and quiet, yet Cor felt such reassurance that everything was going to be alright. It was akin to the feeling he had when he had first mounted Bree to ride to the North.

"It's Aravis, Aslan. There is something wrong and I do not know what it is or how to help her. I feel absolutely useless to her."

"This, Prince, is one of the consequences of the great capacity to love that you possess. But it is a gift, do not despair. You can help her still."

Cor's face lit up in the bright glow of Aslan's presence. "You will tell me what is the matter with her, then?"

Aslan shook his head, "I cannot do that, Prince Cor. It is her story to tell. All I am able to do is tell you what you must do."

"Anything, Aslan; I will do anything for her."

"You must take her and ride tonight into the Western Wild. Aim ever more towards the Great Waterfall. An hour from there is a small pool, and it that pool Aravis must bathe. Do you understand, Son of Adam?"

Cor nodded and, as quickly as he had come, Aslan disappeared into a brilliant golden glory. The room felt quite empty without the Lion and there and Cor's task seemed almost impossible, because he anticipated that asking Aravis to go with him would be a time and a half. However, he girded himself up in princely strength and set himself determinedly to succeed.

* * *

Aravis could not sleep. She sat there still, leaning against the door, all hope and fight gone from here. A quiet knock sent a jolt through her body and she leapt to her feet.

"Aravis please let me in."

Aravis whispered in annoyance, "Cor you must learn that when someone tells you 'no', the answer is no!"

"Aravis, if you do not open this door, so help me Aslan, I will knock it down and then the whole castle will know whatever secret it is that you have."Cor's voice was sharp in a way that she had never heard before. With a resigned sign she opened the door and let him in. If the cover of night had not been on the room, obscuring her face even more than the scarf, she would have undoubtedly refused him entry.

"Why are you wearing that?" asked Cor confused. Aravis folded her arms and began to tap her foot impatiently.

"It is not of your business. Would you please just tell me what it is you want?"

Cor looked out her window into the darkness, "Put on some riding clothes. We must go quickly if we are to reach there in good time."

Aravis blinked slowly, "Have you lost your mind? It is the middle of the night. Where exactly are you intending for us to go?"

"It is not me, but Aslan who gave these orders. We are to go to the Western Wild; there near the Great Waterfall is a pool that you are to bathe in. Aslan said this is how I am to help you. Help you in what I do not know but I suppose it is not important that I know at this time."

Aravis was quiet for a moment and took a seat on her chaise. Her hair tumbled over her shoulders making her look ever the charming Tarkheena as she looked up into Cor's eyes.

"And you…you want to help me?" her voice was filled with disbelief and she looked vulnerable in a way that Cor had never seen before. He sat down beside her and took her hand.

"Aravis, you are my dearest friend. You know me in a way that no one else does and I believe I can say the same of you. If there is something you need, I will do my best to assist you."

Aravis looked down at their entwined hands and then back up at Cor. There was a change in her eyes and he thought he could almost see a smile behind her veil.

* * *

The night air was cool, but not uncomfortably so and Aravis was thankful that they were riding on a summer night, for autumn and winter in the western Archenland could be notoriously treacherous.

"You are sure about this?" she asked Cor for the millionth time as they rode through a mountain pass. His chuckle reverberated through her arms and chest, causing a strange warmth to flood her body. She had not noticed when his laugh had changed, from a boyish guffaw to deep and thoughtful.

"_Masculine_…" she thought. Unthinkingly, she tightened her grip on his waist.

"I am, as I have said every other time that you asked me. Besides we are too far gone to turn back now, yes?"

"I suppose so…" Aravis trailed off. They were both quiet for a long moment and the only sound they could hear were the stones shifting underneath the hooves of Cor's charger.

"Cor…"

"Hmm…"

"I was wondering how you felt that night riding through the gorge between here and Narnia? I have always wondered actually, but I never felt right asking and you never seemed eager to speak of it…"

Cor sighed heavily and Aravis could begin to feel the beginnings of regret forming as her face flushed hot.

"Forgive me if I was too intrusive, if you do not want-"

"No, that's not it." He let go of the reins with one hand and placed it over Aravis' two at his waist. "I do want to tell you about it. It was just a rather poignant moment of my life, but you ought to know I would not mind sharing it with you." He intertwined their fingers and she laid her head against his back.

"Well at first I was quite relieved. I could hear Rabadash's army take the other path which led to Anvard and away from where I was heading. Looking back on it I believe it was quite cowardly of me…"

Aravis smiled, "That is not your fault. Shasta did not know what would have been expected of His Royal Highness Prince Cor."

"I suppose Shasta would not have," Cor laughed. "It gets worse though. By that time I was beginning to feel quite sorry for myself. You, Bree and Hwin were with the Hermit of the Southern March resting…"

"Resting?" Aravis interrupted, "Shame on you, Cor! I had just had my back ripped open by a Lion! Fancy how much rest one can have when that has happened. None on their back I can tell you that much."

"You know Aravis, if you keep interrupting me you will never hear what happened, and I promise it is worth it."

"Yes, all right," Aravis sighed, "I apologize, go on."

"Yes, well I was feeling quite without a friend in the world. Ah! Say nothing! Just when I was feeling the lowest a boy could feel I heard breathing nearby and when I turned to my left I saw no one, but I could feel a presence and knew that there was someone, or _something_ beside me. Oh, Aravis, it might have been the most terrible moment of our entire journey for me. I said nothing for a long time and finally I asked the Presence if it was a giant, or my worst fear – something dead."

"Did you get an answer?"

"He breathed on me, it was warm. He said, 'Myself' in three distinct voices and I could begin to make out a shape. Of course, it was Aslan, but I did not know who he was at that time. I told him my troubles about how I had never known my true family, how we kept getting chased by Lions, about Tashbaan, the Night of the Tombs-"

"You never told me about that night either!" Aravis said indignantly.

"That is a story for another night. You know the rest. He told me that he was the Lion who had spurred us on to the North. It is the next part that really...affected me. The mist lifted and I could see a shining light, so bright, and I looked next to me and it was Aslan. He was beautiful and terrible. I was terrified, but for the first time I truly felt peace. I kneeled before him; it just seemed to be what I should do. He…he comforted me and then he disappeared in a swirling sphere of golden light and I found myself on a green hillside with the horse out of the gorge and in Narnia. It seems so simple now, and yet-"

"You feel like that was the first moment where you truly felt like you understood that your life had a particular plan and a meaning," Aravis finished. Cor squeezed her fingers, recognizing that she understood.

"It was a changing experience, a glorious experience that I never tried to put into words because I did not think I could do it justice; despite how learned I have become," he teased, "but I should have known _you _would understand. You always do."

As much as she wanted to tell him that she felt the same about him, she could not. How could she say that honestly when there was so much on her heart that she refused to tell him? She knew teasing Cor better, the one who played pranks on her with Corin. Yet this serious Cor, who she always seemed to see in glimpses and unexpected moments, brought down her defenses. In lieu of words, she squeezed back. It was all she could do.

* * *

"We should stop for the rest of the night. We will not be able to spot the pool in this darkness and even the most accomplished riders need to sleep," Cor said as he walked the horse over to a small clearing, encircled by dark, shadowy evergreens.

"I know you are speaking of yourself, because we both know who the more accomplished rider is…" Aravis jumped off the back of the horse and surveyed the area.

It was big enough that they could sleep comfortably, yet not so open as to make them incredibly visible to a passerby. Not that they were common in the uninhabited Western Wild. A full moon gave brilliant light that night and she could see Cor quite clearly across the clearing feeding the horse from a saddlebag. He looked up at her with an inquisitive look on his face. Realizing that he was again looking at her veil she turned around and sat with her back to him.

Of course, merely turning her back to him was going to do no good. This was Cor after all. He sat down beside her and they silently looked up at small pinpricks of light in the night sky.

Eventually Cor spoke. "How did you feel Aravis, when we had reached our goal and finally arrived in the North? What were you thinking of when you were with the Hermit?"

"I thought of a great many things. I reflected on our journey and how dangerous and uncertain it had been. When I was finally out of danger, lying in the bed with the Lion's mark upon my back I thought of how everything still seemed uncertain. I was not a Northerner like you, or Hwin or Bree. I was a Calormene Tarkheena run away from a noble family, a family many would dream to have. As happy and pleased as I was to be here I still felt like I was not going to fit in." Aravis kept her face toward the heavens, even after she could feel Cor looking at her.

"Aravis, I was from Calormen too. I had never been to the North. I was as much a stranger as you were."

"But don't you see, Cor?" she cried, "You may have grown up in Calormen, but we all knew you were from here. With your fair hair and fair skin what could you be but Northern? Something no one could ever mistake me for in the least."

Her voice had grown quiet till she had finished barely above a whisper. Cor put a finger to her chin and she jumped.

"Please, do not touch me there."

"Aravis, I need you to look at me." The last place that she wanted to look now was into Cor's eyes. She was afraid what she would see there. Perhaps he would pity her, and maybe there would be affirmation as well.

"Look at me," he told her again. She slowly turned her face toward him. To her surprise, his eyes held hurt, but his expression was impossible to read.

"Why?" Cor sounded stunned, "Why have you never told me this? You could not possibly still feel this way could you, not after living at Anvard with Father and Corin and me?"

"I never told anyone Cor," her voice was unexpectedly steady, "not until yesterday at least."

"Does your feeling that way have something to do with all this?"

Aravis cast her eyes down, for the first time in her life, feeling utterly disgraced. "Yes. Yesterday, Daphne and Mariah and I were out on our own going to the fair in Bray. We ran into some young men and they harassed me about Rabadash and not being from _here _and called me…a darkie. It hurt Cor, and I hate to admit that, because I am a Tarkheena and their ignorant words should mean nothing to me but they did! All insecurity I have had about being a Calormene in Archenland just bubbled to the surface. Daphne said she knew about a woman, in the Eastern foothills, who could give me a balm that could lighten my skin. Mariah did not trust it, and I should not have. A voice deep inside told me not too, but I did not heed it. The balm burned my face in patches. I look a fright, my skin is ruined and I was ashamed for anyone to know."

To his credit, Cor did not say a single word while Aravis explained herself. He took her hands in his and held them up to his face, shaking his head.

"Oh, you silly girl," his voice was hoarse with emotion, "How could you ever think to do something like that to yourself? What you look like does not mean anything to the ones who care about you? And I know you could hardly care about what those scoundrels think. You sure did not care what I thought of you when we first met."

"That is not true. All right, yes, yes, perhaps at first. But you did impress me sometimes, and to find out you were a prince! That changed everything."

"Not everything," a small smile crept on Cor's face, "you would still argue me tooth and nail and remind me that I was nothing but a peasant boy who fancied himself a prince and if I thought that made me fine then perhaps I had as little brains as I did brawn."

Aravis giggled, "I did apologize for that after! And King Lune gave me a strong talk on name calling afterwards."

"You see, Aravis. You were never excluded because of who you are or what you looked like."

"No, but…"

"Nothing, you are beautiful in a way that is different from everyone around you. Embrace that!"

Aravis pulled her hands away, "You have to say that…"

"I do not have to do a thing that I do not choose to do. I did not have to come out here with you tonight. I did not have to reassure you of something you should already know. These are things I wanted to do, for you. Can you not see that?"

Aravis arranged a saddlebag as a pillow and lay down. "I am tired Cor. Good night."

Cor sighed frustratingly, "You aren't actually going to sleep with that thing on, are you?"

When he heard no response he flounced down on the ground beside her and turned his back to her. Aravis peeked over and when she was sure he was asleep, she took the veil from her face; it really was uncomfortable to sleep in.

Later, Aravis heard Cor move restlessly. She stayed perfectly still, feigning sleep, even as he sat up. He leaned over her and traced a finger down her burned cheek. It took every fibre of her being not flinch away from his touch. How dare he do this? She had not wanted him to see her like that, less than what she was. Tears began to form behind her closed eyelids. This she could not forgive; she would never forgive him, the insensitive, and uncaring-

At that moment she felt him bend down and his lips gently brushed against her spoiled cheek. Never had she felt a touch so gentle. He again ran his hand down her cheek and kissed the other one in the same manner, softly, tenderly, with such love.

"You're still beautiful, Aravis," he whispered before returning to his spot. Waiting until she could hear the rhythmic sound of his breaths she then turned and looked at him. She was astonished, especially since she was not sure if Cor knew if she had been awake or not. Either way, his intent had been clear. A little smile graced her face and Aravis saw a long, but not unpleasant, sleepless night ahead of her.

* * *

The sunlight woke Aravis; even from behind her eyelids, she could tell that the day would be hot and bright. When she looked around the clearing, Cor was nowhere to be found, but his charger was still tied to the same tree as that night, so she knew he would be back. After assessing her face (still awful) in the looking glass from her saddlebag, she re-tied her veil and prepared the horse for travel. A sound caught her attention and she turned to see Cor entering the clearing from the other side.

"Good morning," he said simply, putting a hand on her shoulder. Aravis looked him in the eye, daring him to reveal to her anything about the night before, but his face was expressionless.

"Good morning, Cor."

"There's no need to saddle Obsidian yet. The pool is not far from here, it is directly due west," he pointed across the clearing. It is about fifteen minutes so you can walk. I'll wait here."

* * *

The pool was not very big, maybe ten feet across, but the water was clear like glass. Aravis understood why Cor waited behind. One definitely had the feeling that venturing into this pool was something one must do alone. Kneeling on the bank she gathered water in her hand and splashed in on her face. The tingling sensation was back. She waited until it subsided and looked at her reflection in the pool. Her face was healed and completely unscarred. There was not a blemish on it. Relief flooded her and she bent her head and let the tears fall. When she glanced back in the pool she was shocked to see another reflection looking back at her. She turned quickly and looked into the face of the Great Lion himself. The tears began to fall more rapidly and she buried her face in his mane.

"Why do you cry, Daughter of Eve?"

Aravis sat back and looked up at him. "I was foolish. I was vain. I was prideful. I never should have gone to that woman, and I knew it."

"The voice that we hear deep inside ourselves, dear heart, is usually the best guide. Your worth is not how others see you, but how you see yourself. You are beautifully and wonderfully made, Aravis and it is up to you to believe that."

"I do now. I always did I think, but I let my own feelings and ideas distort my perceptions. I should not have."

Aslan was sympathetic, "You are not the first, but know that your self-worth comes from inside you."

Aravis nodded, "Thank you for _everything_," thinking of more than just the restoration of her face.

When she arrived back in the clearing she found Cor sitting on the ground, his arms folded across his knees.

"Cor…" He looked behind and his lips curled into a wide grin.

"That's my Aravis."

* * *

Both young people were a bit shy with each other as they rode back to Anvard. Neither had spoken after Aravis had explained what had happened at the pool, yet both felt that something had changed. With her back against Cor's chest Aravis felt that almost everything was right in the world…almost. Without notice, she turned around and kissed Cor lightly on his lips. What had been meant as a romantic gesture turned disastrous as Cor jerked the reins in surprise and Obsidian threw them off his back. They landed in the heathery down of the hill, unscathed.

"Oh really, Cor! You can go around kissing me and being sweet and romantic as you please, but when I take my turn you throw me off your horse!"

"You surprised me! And you were supposed to be asleep when I did that!"

Aravis scoffed, "Spare me! You knew perfectly well I was awake."

"Perhaps...nevertheless-" Cor broke off abruptly and ran his fingers over Aravis' cheek. He bent down and kissed deeply. Her fingers tangled in his hair and she sighed happily.

"Did I say thank you yet?" she asked with a smile.

"I do not believe so…"

She laughed and kissed him soundly. "Well there."

"I think I may end up liking this more than our arguments."

Aravis smirked, "Maybe…as long as they all end like this."

* * *

**A/N: This is just a short (or long) one-shot that I wrote quickly and without a beta, so I apologize for any mistakes! It was difficult to write, but I felt that this was a plausible scenario that Aravis might find herself in. The is my first new story in years, so I'm excited! Review if you'd like and thank you for reading!**

**Next Story Preview:_ The King of Archenland could not sleep. He had only been a king for a few hours, and yet it felt as if the weight of the world was on his shoulders..._**


	2. A Time To Mourn

**A/N: Here is the second story in the collection. This chapter features a more intimate moment, but it is all tasteful, I promise :) Cheers!**

* * *

"Cor!" He heard a voice shout his name down the corridor as he walked towards his living quarters. It was a voice he would recognize anywhere, for it sounded quite similar to his own. With a sigh, he turned around to face his brother.

The sight of Corin's face wrenched his heart. The bloodshot eyes looked up at him sadly causing Cor to feel some shame at his own annoyance. His brother's sadness rolled off him in waves and Cor could feel something inside himself tightening in pain.

"What is it, Corin?" he asked briskly as he rubbed his hand over his face. All he wanted to do was lie in his chambers and drift into the darkness, just for a few hours.

"Cor, I just thought that…well perhaps…" he swallowed and began again, "I thought maybe you would like to talk, you know, about Father –"

"I cannot just now, Corin. Pray forgive me, but I have just sat with the Privy Council for more time than I am sure any man deserves, and I just wish now for some peace and quiet."

Corin looked at his brother, more unbelieving, than hurt. "How can you be so unfeeling, Cor? Are you really so concerned with your own need for 'peace and quiet' that you would…" Corin trailed off as he gathered his composure, "Where is your sense of duty, as a son and a brother, your Majesty?"

Blue eyes flashed hotly and in a second Cor had Corin pushed against the stone walls of the castle, shouting in his face.

"How dare you speak to me of my duty? What is my duty, pray tell? Am I a king, a son, a husband, a brother? Which comes first in the line of importance? What would he have expected of me, brother? Tell me, for I truly do not know!"

As strong as Cor was, he was no match for his brother in hand-to-hand combat and, before he could blink, Corin shoved him into a suit of armour on the other side of the corridor and they both fell to the floor amid the clattering metal. The sound of the crash echoed off the stones in the hall and both lying dazed heard quick footsteps coming closer.

"By the Mane!" Aravis cried as she hurried towards the men on the floor. Her hair was half plaited, unraveling itself as she ran. Her handmaiden followed quickly behind her, pleading vehemently with her mistress.

"My Lady, oh, my lady, it is not proper that you be –"

"Oh, do hush please, Millicent. I cannot bear your disapproval tonight of all nights. Let us part and I will call for you when I am ready tomorrow," she said to the nodding handmaiden.

"As you wish, your Majesty," she said as she curtsied and left. Aravis winced slightly at her new title, but turned her attention to Cor and Corin.

"I shall never forgive you for making me have her, Cor," Aravis jested, "What has happened here…"

It seemed that neither man wished to speak first. Aravis knelt on the ground beside them, assessing the scene. She noticed a small trickle of blood on Corin's forehead, but mostly she saw the deep sadness in his eyes.

"Oh, Corin," she said sadly as she gently dabbed his forehead with her handkerchief. "How hard this is for you, for us all really."

Corin looked over at his brother scathingly. Cor's face was an impenetrable mask as he looked on silently at his wife and brother.

"It is not hard for Cor, it would seem…"

"For shame, Corin!" Aravis rebuked firmly as she continued tending to his head. "What could make you say such a thing at this time?"

"Yes, Corin, play the victim as you receive the tender ministrations of my wife."

Aravis pulled back suddenly, facing her husband. "Cor! How could you say that he 'plays the victim'? His father has died…"

"Yes, his father has died…"

"_Your_ father has died, you insufferable twat of a twin! I do not understand…"

"No," sighed Cor annoyed, "It is clear you do not." He pushed himself up to standing and walked down the hall to his chamber.

* * *

The King of Archenland could not sleep. He had only been a king for a few hours, and yet it felt as if the weight of the world was on his shoulders. He was now responsible for an entire kingdom, which consisted of people, territory and animals, talking and non-talking alike. Yes, there were advisors, to whom he had just spent the better part of five hours speaking and discussing his plans. Or rather, they discussed their plans for him. However, if there was an agricultural disaster next year, if there was a battle that needed to be fought, he was the one who would be responsible for it, not any advisor.

Cor sighed heavily and turned onto his side. Being the Crown Prince of Archenland had been more responsibility than he had ever dreamed of having before. Why, a few years ago, several really, he had thought that all he would ever have to do in his life was catch fish. Of course, Arsheesh would have died someday and then Cor would have needed to catch and sell, but that hardly seemed like a difficult task, tedious but not a burden. When he had found out he was the crown prince he had definitely felt some guilt in taking the place from Corin; obviously as an interloper he was worried about falling out of his twin's good graces. But Corin had been jubilant, and Cor had never quite understood why. Being a prince did have unpleasant moments, as Corin had mentioned, but for the poor son of a fisherman, it was still a dream come true. Then he had become a husband and that had given him an entirely different type of responsibility.

Being married to Aravis was easy, just like breathing. They were both independent individuals who hated to be dependent on someone else, for anything. Naturally, after showing up in Archenland unexpected, but not unwelcome, they would have felt the need to prove they weren't a burden. Yet, just like everyone else in the world, there was a small empty part in each of them that cried out for someone to lean on in the tough times, the quiet times, and the happy times. Who better to understand what the other needed than the one who was also missing that part. There was such a completeness to them, and Cor did all that was in his power to prove himself deserving of her, his Calormene Tarkheena, as he called her in the quiet moments of the night.

Tonight, however, he felt alone, isolated, empty. He did not know where to turn, what to do, how to act. He had spent his life, since coming to Archenland, preparing to take the throne one day. Now that it had arrived all it did was just make the hole left by the death of his father grow bigger.

"Cor…" Aravis' hand gently squeezed his shoulder and then traveled slowly down his arm. "Speak to me."

"I am tired, Aravis, and you are upset with me."

"You are not tired! If you were so very tired, as you claim, you would be asleep. And you always have that slow, sleepy voice when you are tired. Secondly, I am not upset with you…not very anyways. However, I will be very soon if you shut me out, _dear husband_."

Cor sighed and turned onto his back. "I do not know what to say to you, Aravis. The thoughts race in my mind so quickly, but the words…"

Aravis laid her head down on Cor's bare chest, tracing circles slowly with her index finger. They were quiet for a moment until Aravis sat up and held out her hand to Cor.

"Come, Cor…"

"Come to where?" he asked. She stood up and began rifling in the back of one of her armoires. She pulled out a dark cloak and turned to him.

"We are going for a ride."

* * *

The wind whipped Cor's face sharply and he urged his horse to a gallop. It was so easy to let go of everything when he was riding; every problem seemed less than what it had been before. All that which clogged his mind could easily be left till later.

It was a beautifully warm night, with only a crescent moon to give the smallest amount of illumination. Nevertheless, he could see Aravis well, riding alongside him, her horse matching every stride of his own. It was a lot like their relationship. No matter what the other needed, where they were going, what they wished or desired, the other always understood. One of them would always reach to meet the other where they were, to provide that needed support along the way. It was truly blessed in having such a wife, such a partner. He knew that she could understand.

He slowed his horse down, eventually stopping near a grove of trees. It was fortunate that the grounds of the castle stretched on for acres, the perfect conditions for a midnight ride. Aravis stopped also and dismounted her mare. Cor took the reins from her and tied them next to his on a branch.

He sat down, nestling himself into the downy grass. His arms opened for his wife and she slipped gently onto his lap, folding herself into him.

"What troubles you, Cor? Please..." Cor sighed into her hair and rested his cheek against the soft, black tresses.

"I am hurting Aravis…" Cor's voice was ragged as he exhaled slowly. "My mind and my heart are too full…it hurts so...it is if I can feel a heavy weight sitting on my head in the form of that insufferable crown."

Aravis reached her hand to his face and cupped his cheek. "Cor, you need to grieve your father's death…"

"I cannot. I need to be a king first. I need to take responsibility for Archenland. It is my duty."

Aravis sat up, staring into her husband's eyes. "No, Cor. Your duty _is_ to your father first, but as his son."

Cor stared up at the stars in the pitch black of the sky, "I feel I cannot grieve, because it is not my right. It is Corin's. I cannot make myself share in his sadness."

The wind blew gently around them, blowing the scent of night blooms around them. Aravis sat quietly in thought, one hand holding Cor's tightly.

"I understand. I do, Cor. I truly do."

"Ever since I was reunited with my father, I have been groomed to be king. Of course, I know he loved me deeply, as a father does. But Corin was there first. I have always taken solace in the fact that I knew I had some place. That Father looked at me as the son to rule in his stead; that was my right from birth. But I am not the son who ran to him with childhood hurts. I am not the son he taught to ride a pony, or sat with on his knee. How can I possibly act like I deserve to share in Corin's grief?"

"Blood does not know time. And family need not know blood, for I too grieve for your father in my own way. There are no rules that dictate whose right to grieve is greater. Who has guided you in all the ways that have mattered in your life? Cor, if you loved him deeply then you have every right to grieve him."

Cor lay down slowly, pulling Aravis beside him. "I wish I knew how to believe that deep down, Aravis. I really wish I did."

* * *

"Cor…"

The young king's eyes sprung open at the sound of the name. He looked around slowly, but noticed no one around. There was still a gentle breeze ruffling the soft grass and he surmised that perhaps he had just imagined he'd heard it.

"Cor." The voice now was stronger, more persistent. It was no dream. He positioned Aravis comfortably on the ground and began to walk. He did not hear the voice again and did not know where he was going, yet he felt that he was headed in the right direction. In the distant a golden light shone in the darkness of the night. As he got closer the shine of the light got brighter and, when he was less than a metre way, the figure of Aslan was visible before him.

Immediately, Cor was on his knees before the great Lion. He felt the warm, comforting breath against his face and felt a peace that he had not known since that morning when–

"Oh, my son," Aslan said sadly and the feeling in his words brought tears to Cor's eyes. All the sadness in his heart that he would not let himself express was brought to the surface.

"Why do you weep, Cor?"

"Aslan, I would expect that _you_ would be the one to understand."

He shook his head, "Whether I understand, Son of Adam, is not what is of importance."

Cor understood. Aslan knew what Cor felt, but he wanted to make sure that Cor understood as well. That was the way with Aslan. He would rather you understood yourself than tell you merely what the answer was.

"My father has died. But I do not feel that my sadness is worthy. I have only known him as my father these six years. He was so much to other people for a much longer time. I feel that I do not have a right to…hurt…as much as I do."

"Love is not dependent on time, Dear One,"

Cor chuckled as we wiped his eyes, "Aravis said something similar to me tonight."

"She is a very wise woman. You have chosen each other well. What guided your heart in that choice, Cor?"

"Obviously, my feelings for her were part of the determining factor. Yet, it was not as if I had not felt such feelings before…in a passing fancy, of course. No one had ever matched the love I have for Aravis, and that was a confusing notion for me. So, I went to my father and asked for his counsel."

"That is merely one time in years of history, yet it is enough to warrant your grief for you went to him for counsel for one of your heart's most important decision. He was your father, blood of your blood, your advisor, your mentor and in these later times, a dear friend. A father's love knows no bounds, and a son's love need not as well."

Cor said nothing and only let himself weep and cry in the comfort of Aslan's presence.

* * *

Aravis waited patiently among the grove of trees for Cor. She had awakened to find him gone, but felt no worry. In fact, she was pleased. She understood Cor's need for solitude. When he was ready for her, he would come.

A dark figure approached her from the distance and she walked quickly towards him. Cor stood before her in the moonlight, with his hair falling across his forehead and his cheeks wet with tears. Aravis encircled his arms around his neck and kissed him gently. She pulled back and lightly stroked his cheek.

"How are you, Cor?"

"I feel wretched, my father has died." Cor smiled slightly and kissed her forehead.

"Good. You needed to say that."

The sombreness of the situation returned and Aravis looked at Cor carefully. She ran her arms lightly down his arms. Slowly, she pulled up the hem of his tunic, motioning for him to lift his arms so she could take it off. She tossed it away to the side.

"Come, Cor," she whispered. Once again, she held out her hand to him. He took it and she led him back into the grove of trees.

Slowly, she placed kisses on Cor's cheeks as her hands moved upwards, following the curve of his spine, and into his hair. The wetness of his tears moistened her own lips and she pulled back to look at him.

"Mourning is the first step. One day soon, you will feel better. But tonight I wish to give you comfort."

"This is what you wish, despite how I have shunned you tonight?"

Aravis smiled, "I understood why, Cor. That's the difference. You did not mean to hurt me. Even when I was trying to give comfort to Corin…"

"I apologize for that Aravis, I was–"

"Shh," she whispered, "Obviously, I care for Corin deeply. But the comfort I offer you is not what I can offer your brother, he who has none but us now. This belongs to you only."

She fell to the grass and Cor followed. Aravis took his face in her hands as he balanced himself on his elbows over her. As they kissed, a wave of calm washed over him. His heart did not feel whole, but he could feel it healing.

"We do our best speaking at night, I believe," Cor whispered with shortness of breath.

Aravis kissed him softly, "We always have."

* * *

The morning sun flooded the grove of trees where Cor and Aravis lay together under a blanket of their cloaks. Aravis awoke first, roused by the shifting of weight on her chest. She cradled Cor's head against her and kissed her husband's fair head.

They had spoken and made love at different intervals during the night. This was not the first time they had flown to the outdoors for the night. In times of distress, being in the open air and feeling the night breeze against their skin was more comfortable than being within the walls of the castle. It was outdoors where they had first gotten to know each other.

Yet, Anvard did feel like home, and much of that was due to King Lune. It had not been easy for either them, and it was difficult to say whose transition had been harder. They had both struggled in different ways.

Cor had needed to learn how to have a relationship with his father, and as he had been just a few years short of young adulthood at the time, the relationship he forged with his father was different from most. Cor was not oblivious to how his relationship with King Lune had differed from the relationship Corin had with their father. But each had his own role and there was a security for Cor in that, in being prepared to be King. He forged his own unique relationship with his father, one of maturity and respect, and closeness at times. It was understandable that with his father gone Cor would be troubled with how to grieve properly.

Aravis grieved for the mentor and caregiver he had found in King Lune, who had been everything her own father in Calormen had not been to her. In this last year, after her marriage to Cor, King Lune, whose health had been failing due to old age, had been such a father to her. She missed him dearly, but was proud of the boys he had raised, each in their own way.

Warm tears spilled from her eyes and down her cheeks. She tried desperately to stifle them, for fear the movement of her chest would wake Cor, who was finally resting peacefully. A small sob left her lips and she closed her eyes and exhaled softly. Despite her efforts, Cor woke. He moved to her side and raised himself onto his elbow.

"Are you all right?" his voice was rough and he cleared his throat. "Aravis…"

She nodded, "But I am cold."

Cor slipped underneath the cloaks again, and brushed the tears from her dark cheeks. He covered her body with his own and looked into her eyes.

"Are you warm now?"

"Yes, but Cor, should we not go back? A King cannot go long without being missed…"

Cor kissed the crook of her neck, "Not yet…"

* * *

The coronation was held a month after King Lune's funeral, which had happened immediately after his death, for it was not customary for Archenlandish kings to line in state. Cor stood behind the large oak doors that led into the great hall, his hand tightly grasping Aravis'.

"If only Shasta could see you now," she teased. Cor smiled and bent his head down to kiss her forehead, for she had forbidden him from her lips since it would not do for the king to be seen with lip colour.

"I bet he would think you rather silly looking, to be honest…" laughed Corin as he approached his friends.

"Just like I thought you were rather silly looking with a black eye when we first met in Calormen, brother."

"Oh, I do not think so," Corin said taking Aravis' other arm. "You were clearly in awe of my ferocity."

Aravis looked from one to the other, "You would never think that Cor was about to be crowned the King of Archenland any minute from how two are carrying on."

In that moment, a short man with a golden scroll scurried towards them breathing heavily, "Now, you remember what is to happen. First, his Majesty will walk in. Three seconds, his Highness Prince Corin and the Queen Consort will enter. All three will kneel and then his Majesty will approach the throne to be blessed and crowned. After a brief speech we will proceed with her Majesty's crowning and his Highness' knighting. Any questions?"

The three shook their heads, the seriousness returning. A trumpet blew from inside and the heavy oak doors swung open before them. Cor squeezed Aravis' hand once more and proceeded down into the great hall. The room was filled with the golden presence of Aslan and Cor knelt before the great Lion. He could hear Corin and Aravis do the same behind him before stepping to the side.

"Do you solemnly vow, Cor of Archenland, to fulfill the duties of the Sovereign, ruling justly and mightily over the citizens of your country? To be their King, Protector and Defender at all times and in the face of every danger?"

"I do swear it," Cor's voice was firm and Aravis could hear none of Shasta's uncertainty. Cor truly was a king. A royal official placed the crown of Archenland on his head before Aslan spoke again.

"Arise, your Majesty, King Cor of Archenland. May your wisdom grace us till the stars rain down from the heavens."

Cor rose slowly after hearing the traditional blessing for a Narnian or Archenlandish monarch. He turned to face the crowd who were clapping and cheering loudly. As he raised his hand, the crowds quieted to her their king speak.

"My people of Archenland. As this is not the last time you shall hear me speak thusly, I shall take very little time now. We have been truly fortunate to have been able to have such a monarch as my father, King Lune. To each of us, he was someone different, yet we all felt his death as a great loss in our own way," here Cor looked to Aravis, who had tears in her eyes as she gazed up at him, and to Corin who nodded to his brother, an understanding forged between them.

"I hope that my reign shall be as fruitful as his was, and that as your king, I can fulfill the needs that you have. I am a native son of Archenland who did not grow up here. However, I considered myself raised as a son of Archenland, and not of Calormen, for the moments that matter most in my life have happened in the shadow and hope of this land. We are fortunate in to live in such a country, bordered as we are by mountains, trees and rivers. Dangers may come, but we are well protected and I promise to you, myself that we shall see them all through."


End file.
